


First Impressions

by guera



Series: Time keeps on slippin' [6]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Quill is protective, Time Travel AU, first impressions are a bitch, teenage Rocket and Groot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guera/pseuds/guera
Summary: He's about to say as much when the man visibly relaxes back on his heels, one hand up defensively as the other creeps towards where a blaster is probably holstered at his hip. A smirk crosses his face and it hits Stakar like a punch to the chest, cause damn it all if that ain't an expression straight out of Udonta's playbook.or the time Quill and Ogord run into each other and only one person ends up dead. Kraglin will later dub it the Ogord Incident. (Well out of earshot of the cap'n)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be part 3... check out the dates, it falls right after Rescue... and as always this probably wont make sense without reading the other parts (might not make sense even if you have read the other parts but well...)

Earth Year – 1992

“Please tell me you're not building a bomb.”

Rocket slants a look at him while still twisting two wires together. “A'right, I'm not building a bomb.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket scoffs in exasperation, “He didn' ask for the _truth_ ” he points out.

Peter just buries his head in his hands and wonders just where in his life he went wrong to end up here.

Here, as it turns out, is stuck on some backwaters planet with a dead ship and two teenagers waiting on the _Eclector_ to come pick them up. They'd found a little restaurant that didn't seem to mind them hanging around for several hours as long as they kept ordering. They did, at least, have the closest thing to french fries Peter's had in decades. 

“Just… Don't blow us up, okay?” He feels like that's a reasonable request.

Rocket just snorts, but his face softens a bit and Peter can tell he's slanting him a look. “S'not like I'm not careful.”

Peter picks his head up and watches little clever fingers flying over wires and circuits,”Yeah, I know.”

“I am Groot.”

Rocket rounds on him, “That was one time! An' all your branches grew back so I don't know why you're whining at me about it still.”

“I am Groot.”

Peter blocks out the predictable argument. Only stepping in to grab the back of Rocket's jacket to stop him from jumping at Groot with a screwdriver. The fact that he still has all his fingers after doing so just shows the progress they've made. 

“Sit and shut up,” he grits out between clenched teeth. The place is mostly empty, dinner rush long over so there is only a few people who are very obviously not watching the chaos happening at the back corner table. 

“I am Groot.” Really, a walking tree should not have the ability to sulk, and Rockets shoulder's are hunched and his ears nearly flat back, as he goes back to the not-bomb he's building.

Peter thinks he probably should get them to make up or something, but if they're not speaking to each other that means they're _quiet_ and he's not jeopardizing that. 

He's just got to keep them all out of trouble for a little while longer, how hard could that be?

XXX  
Martinex is telling the same story for the five hundredth time. It's a good story, has got the newly christened Captain Loisal and his first mate (really should learn the kid's name) enthralled. Stakar was too, the first ten times he heard it. Now, he figures he could recite it by heart.

He's just about to hit the part with the Xandarian tea set when Stakar swings the door open to the small, hole in the wall restaurant he first found on this planet years ago. Sure, most of the crew of both factions are further in town at the various bars and brothels, but this little place is perfect for quiet drink with his new captain. 

He scans the place automatically, figuring the place should be mostly empty considering the time, but his gaze stops on the back corner table. The Floral Colossus is a head scratcher as well as the little furry one, but it's the man in red leathers that's got his attention. 

The guy must have spotted him as soon as he came in the door and he must recognize Stakar because there's a guarded edge to his glare. Martinex doesn't do anything as clumsy as bumping into him, but he does cut off mid word when he realizes Stakar isn't moving further into the restaurant. 

“Captain?”

And by now the few patrons have cottoned on to the tension in the room and in the stillness the scraping of a chair against the floor is loud. “We were just leaving.” 

The little furry one whines out something but the man just pushes him towards the walking tree with a hushed order, and Stakar can admit to himself that he's happy with this outcome. He doesn't want to deal with one of Udonta's crew and if the man's willing to leave peacefully he'd be happy to forget all about him.

Too bad his new captain didn't get message.

“You ain't goin' nowhere with that jacket, you traitor.” 

And Stakar doesn't roll his eyes, because he's the fucking _Admiral_ , but he does feel a headache coming on. Loisal has a blaster up and pointed at the man and Stakar _likes_ this restaurant, god's be damned, he doesn't want it full of holes or covered in blood. 

He's about to say as much when the man visibly relaxes back on his heels, one hand up defensively as the other creeps towards where a blaster is probably holstered at his hip. A smirk crosses his face and it hits Stakar like a punch to the chest, cause damn it all if that ain't an expression straight out of Udonta's playbook. 

“I don't want any trouble,” the man says as he tries to subtlely get his two companions to edge towards the kitchen door where Stakar knows there's a back door.

“I'mma burn that jacket, don't really care if you're in it or not,” Loisal tilts his head a bit, a smile showing off more teeth than needed and Stakar is regretting his decision to name him captain. “Maybe I'll skin your friend there and make you a new one.” 

Stakar only has half a heartbeat to think it's time to step in before he blinks and his world shifts. The most pressing matter is the sharp blade pressed against his throat and the person that's holding it there pressed against his back. There is an empty space where the man in red leathers should be and an empty space to his left and right where his men were.

“Quill!” And that's the furry one, hair standing on end, wrapped in the branches of the walking tree, “What the hell?” 

“Sorry,” and the voice is breathless in his ear. “Slight change of plans.”

Stakar swallows carefully, “My men?” because he's a realist and he can smell the blood on the knife pressed to his skin.

The pressure of the knife tilts and Stakar finds himself turning his head and tilting down to see Martinex and the first mate bound and gagged on the floor. “I apologize about the bar rags, it's all I could find.” 

“The other?” he asks even as he knows the answer.

“Dead men don't need gags.” is all the answer Stakar really needs, but the man, Quill, turns his head the other way so he can see Loisal flat on the floor, a shiny red smile across his throat. He can feel the tension rolling off of everyone in the place, including the man at his back.

“What's your plan here, kid? Eventually my crew's gonna come looking for me.”

“Yeah,” Stakar feels him take a deep breath, “Rocket,” and the furry one pricks his ears forward, “You remember that thing I told you to destroy, caused it crossed a line, even for you?”

“Yeeah...”

“Go get it off the ship.” Rocket looks at Stakar for a moment before his gaze returns to Quill. “And bring me a detonator like the one we used on the Ellos job.”

Rocket hesitates for a moment before scampering down the walking tree, “Alright, jus' don' do anything stupid while I'm gone.” 

Quill snorts. “It's like you don't know me at all.”

“I am Groot?”

“Nah, you attract too much attention,” he says, “But come take care of the people in the kitchen.” and the two of them disappear through the door.

In the silence that follows there is a broken off sob. 

She's a native of the planet, Stakar figures, due to her pale lavender skin and wide set eyes. The man she's with has his arms around her and a protective look on his face, trying to hide her with his body. There are two other men at a table near the window and the bartender half hiding behind the bar.

“It's okay,” and the voice by his ear has taken on a coaxing quality. “You aren't in any danger, I'm not going to hurt you. If you wanna cry, you can. You don't need to waste any tears on him though,” the man shifts a bit and Stakar has half a thought of trying to get away, but he still doesn't know what the kid did in the first place.

“Do you have any kids?” And the woman's eyes are wide and wet but she nods. “Yeah, see that asshole threatened mine.” And Stakar feels something twist in his gut. 

The woman presses her lips together and being careful to keep her eyes away from the body on the floor, nods. “I just want to go home.” 

“You will,” Quill promises just as the door swings open and the furry one reappears. He's carrying a length of something silver in his hand and he heads straight for them.

Stakar feels little hands grab at his clothes as Rocket climbs up him to perch on his shoulder.”You sure about this, Quill?” But he's already moving before Quill nods and soon clever little hands are fastening the length of silver around Stakar's neck.

“Did ya bring the...”

But Rocket is fishing something out of his pocket and handing it over before the man even finishes and drops it in the hand Quill's not using to hold a blade to his throat. Quill holds his hand out in front of Stakar's face and he can see it's a pretty standard looking detonator. 

Quill flips the switch and presses down on the trigger with his thumb and Stakar can feel a corresponding hum come from the thing around his neck. He has a pretty good idea where this is going.

“Dead man's switch, Ogord.” And the blade disappears and Quill takes a step back, Rocket making the leap to his shoulder.

Stakar manfully doesn't claw at the thing around his neck, and turns to face Quill. “Now what?”

“Now you're going to tell your ships to let the _Eclector_ pass and come pick my ship up, once we're on the _Eclector_ and make the first jump out of here, this,” Quill wiggles his hand to emphasize, “will be out of range and you can get one of your crew to unlock that.” 

And Stakar wants to refuse, wants to rage. Instead he calmly tips his head into a nod. “Alright.”


	2. chapter 2

They cleared the restaurant out, Quill had apologized and pressed enough units into the owner's hand that he'd ignored the body on the floor and the detonator in Quill's other hand, and now Stakar and Quill are sitting at one of the tables. Stakar had sent Martinex out to relay his orders that the _Eclector_ be allowed to pass peacefully and the man was now leaning against the bar, with an expression on his face that means he's going to want to talk about this at length later. 

Everyone's eyes snap to the kitchen door as it swings open. The furry one is perched on the walking tree's shoulder and they hesitate at bit in the doorway when they realize they're the center of attention.

“Di'ya get a hold of them?” Quill's question seems to knock them back in motion and the two cross the room to stand next to Quill.

“They're a couple hours out still.” 

“Did you tell him about...” Quill shoots a significant look at Stakar, who in turn just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Um, well, I told Algo,” It's hard for Stakar to tell, but he's pretty sure that's a guilty look on that alien face. “I wasn't going to get an arrow in the ass for that little message.”

“I am Groot.”

“Don't care, wasn't risking it.” 

As Quill rubs his face, Stakar wonders just how old the two of them are. He guesses late adolescence just by the way they're standing, arms crossed obviously trying for indifference and failing at hiding the worry and fear. The walking tree has tendrils wrapped tightly around the furry one and Stakar reckons it's an act of comfort for both of them.

“Alright,” Quill sighs. “Rock, what's the blast radius of that again?” He nods his head in Stakar's direction and Stakar tries not to flinch.

“I wouldn't want to be standin' next to 'im if it goes off.” 

Quill makes a face before he starts digging in his jacket and pulls out a black square with wires wrapped around it. “Take this and sit tight… way over there… until the _Eclector_ gets here.” After dropping the thing in little hands he runs his hand over the furry one's head and then presses it against the side of the other's face. “This'll be over soon.”

Stakar waits until the two are on the other side of the room and mostly out of earshot before saying, “Where'd you pick those two up?”

Quill's mouth ticks up at the side, “What makes you think they ain't mine?” At Stakar's look he just shrugs, “Maybe they take after their mothers.”

And Stakar's a pretty open minded guy but that's got his brain twisting trying not to imagine the logistics. Stakar rolls his eyes at the shit eating grin on Quill's face. “Guess they should be thankful they don't take after you.”

Quill places his hand against his chest in mock hurt, “Ouch.” 

“So, how the hell did ya end up on Udonta's crew anyway? He pick you up in a bar and promise to show you the galaxy?” Because Quill doesn't seem the type that seemed to have flocked to Udonta as soon the exile was handed down. Udonta once had a crew to be proud of, but more than half left as soon as the council stripped him of his flame. 

Quill snorts but his eyes narrow, “Why do ya wanna know?”

“I'm bored.” Stakar says drily. “I was supposed to be having a few drinks with my new captain,” He slants a look at the man on the floor. “So, entertain me.”

Quill rolls his eyes. “There was no promise of the galaxy,” he admits. “It was just a job I needed help on and then...” he waves the hand not holding on to the detonator in a offhand way and shrugs. “Sorry it's not more entertaining.” He digs at a crack in the wood grain of the table with his fingernail.

Stakar leans forward against the table. There is more to this story. “If you were looking for a crew to join, there are 49 better options out there.”

“I guess that's just a matter of opinion.” 

Stakar sits back with a creak of worn leather.

“He ain't coming, boy, you know that.”

Quill blinks at him like he has no clue what he's talking about and Stakar feels old all of a sudden. His initial rage has cooled and though he's still irked that Quill had gotten the jump on him (and he'd really like an explanation for that) mostly he can see it as the move of a desperate man. And he's got to give the kid a dose of reality that's not going to sit well, and he thinks he might actually be starting to _like_ the kid.

“Udonta is not comin'. He won't risk this bein' a trap. He mighta sung you a pretty tune about bein' crew but he'll drop you as soon as you're no longer useful.”

Quill's eyebrows are now hovering near his hairline. “I know you've got issue with the man...”

“Issues? No, I just know him. He'll betray you, it's just who he is.” He's sympathetic, really. He'd believed in Udonta once as well, and the sting is still there years later. He can't help but feel foolish that he'd believed he could turn a half feral ex-battle slave into decent captain. 

He's expecting denials, and maybe some misplaced loyalty. What he's not expecting is the kid to lean forward on the table and pin him with a look.

“Did you ever find it odd, the man who'd been sold into slavery as a child, was dealing in kids?”

And while this whole thing had been like prodding at a half healed wound, that question was ripping it wide open. “He admitted it, kid. Didn't even do me the decency of trying to lie about it.” And how Stakar had wished he'd just denied it. They didn't have any hard proof, they could've just moved past it all, kept a closer eye on him maybe. But he had stood there, in front of the council he'd once been a part of, had once raised glasses with, and admitted that the rumors were true. 

Quill doesn't seem to be listening, and there's a wry twist to his lips “And odder still, that once the man was free of your code, he didn't _keep_ dealing in kids, now that there was no need to hide it?” 

“Maybe he thought he'd get me to forgive him if he acted as if he regretted what he did.”

“ _I_ find it odd you were so quick to believe the worst of him.” It shouldn't hurt as much as it does, and it shouldn't twist his guts into guilty knots, but it does.

“You don't know him, you have no idea what he is capable of. You've spent, what a year or so in his crew and you think you've got him figured out?” He shakes his head, “He ain't coming.”

Quill huffs at him, “He's coming, and I bet he comes down to the planet himself just to yell at me.”

And that's interesting. Stakar tilts his head, “Alright, what are your terms?”

Quill blinks at him for a few heartbeats before, “Huh?”

“You wanna bet on Udonta coming down to the planet to pick you up personally,” he smirks a bit, “What are your terms?”

“It's a figure of speech...” Quill says faintly and Stakar's smirk widens.

“What happened to your confidence?”

Quill scowls at him for a second before his look turns thoughtful, “This planet.”

“What?”

“I want this planet as territory.”

Stakar raises an eyebrow but shrugs. “Okay. And if Udonta _doesn't_ show his face...” and Quill's starting to look a little worried and Stakar decides just how far he wants to push. “I get you.” Quill makes a face and Stakar rolls his eyes before clarifying, “In navy leathers. You ain't nearly pretty enough for me for anythin' else.” Stakar can feel Martinex's glare but he knows the man won't actually speak up.

The doubt is still there, lurking deep in Quill's eyes but he doesn't even hesitate to hold his hand out across the table and Stakar takes it easily enough. 

XXX

“...shorts you every third shipment, you ever notice that?”

Stakar shrugs, “The price is still good and if it makes him think he's getting one over on ya he's less likely to do something more troublesome. Though if he's selling to you...” His eyes narrow even as Quill rolls his.

“Whatever old man.” 

And Stakar would protest that but Quill tilts his head, obviously listening to the com unit in his ear and a second later Stakar's own earpiece crackles to life to let him know that the _Eclector_ just jumped into the space around the planet.

Quill brings the hand up that's not still tightly clamped around the detonator and taps the com unit. “Yeah, I gotcha.” He makes a face even as he stands. “Be careful with my ship.”

He looks at Stakar, who has also gotten to his feet and then jerks his head in the universal signal of _let's go_. Martinex pushes off the bar where he's been leaning for the past couple of hours and steps into place as Stakar makes his way to the door of the restaurant.

The tree and the furry one scramble to their feet as they approach the door and Quill ushers them out a head of him, and Stakar feels a bit irked at the ease Quill has at having him at his back, but he doesn't forget the deceptively heavy weight around his throat. 

Quill's ship isn't far, docked in a nearly empty lot close to the restaurant. The first sun is just starting to lighten the sky, the town is quiet, and Stakar knows most of his men are either passed out or will be shortly. It was a small consultation to his pride.

When they get there, two other ships have latched onto a third and are slowing lifting into the air.

“They better not scratch my ship.” mutters Quill, eying the whole thing critically.

“You really think ya'd notice?” 

“I am Groot.”

Quill turns on the two, “Whadya mean, that time on Caisol?”

The two eye each other before the furry one looks up. “Ah, our ride is here.”

And to Stakar's complete amazement, it's the _Warbird_ cutting through the gloom, the thrusters blowing hot air in their directions as it sets down. Quill is already pushing the two forward, even before the ramp lowers.

“Get on the ship, we'll talk later about how you two are going to fully detail my ship once we get on the _Eclector_.”

“Was Pete's idea,” is the muttered reply but the two get moving.

Udonta's backlit by the light from the ship and he starts down the ramp before it's even fully lowered. He only pauses a beat to look over the two before he jerks his head in an order for them to get on the ship.

 

They're only about twenty feet away from the _Warbird_ but Udonta eats up the distance with long strides and Quill takes two steps to meet him. Udonta's hand come up and cups the back of Quill's head before pressing their foreheads together.

Shortly after Stakar's medic cleared the Kree battle slave Stakar had dragged aboard, Stakar had realized he knew nothing about Centaurians and after talking to him, he realized neither did the kid. It had taken a considerable amount of work, but he had located an old Centaurian woman who was willing (for the right amount of units) to teach the kid about his culture. It was worth it to Stakar, to know what was nature and instincts and what was a result of being a Kree battle slave for his entire life. 

He had sated his curiosity ( _Obsession_ said a voice that sounded a lot like his ex-wife) under the guise of security and he distinctly remembers the lesson the old woman gave on proper greetings.

What especially stood out in his memory was when she had been demonstrating the greeting one clan member would give to the other, Udonta had scoffed, claiming he had no clan, therefore had no reason to learn such things. 

Guess he has found a reason.

Udonta pulls back and then shoves sideways where he's still got a grip on Quill's head. “You're getting a new ship.”

Quill snorts as he straightens back up. “No way.”

But Udonta's eyes have landed on Stakar and his face drops a bit in disbelief. “Nice necklace ya got there Ogard.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

And Stakar would say something to that, but it gets swallowed as Quill tosses the detonator at him and his heart stutters in his chest. He catches it on instinct and stares wide eyed at Quill as the hum that has been his companion for the last few hours goes silent. He can feel the tension rolling off Martinex at his side and he takes a deep breath to get his nerves back under check.

“Thought you said it was a dead man's switch.” He doesn't miss the way Udonta's eyes cut to Quill.

“Never claimed the thing was a bomb, did I?” And the kid's smirking at him.

“So what's to stop me from blastin' you full of holes?”

The smirk settles into something a little more serious, “I could've killed you in the restaurant. I could kill you now. But I didn't, and I won't. What I am going to do is go home and sleep for about three days.” He turns on his heel and takes a step towards the ship. “By the way, get off my planet.”

Udonta turns to follow him, “Your planet?”

Quill looks back over his shoulder, “Yeah, I won it in a bet.”

Udonta slants a look back Stakar's way and Stakar shrugs. “I bet you wouldn't come down to the planet yourself. Aren't you interested in what he could've lost?” It may be a little petty, but he wants Udonta to know what Quill was willing to gamble away.

Quill snorts before starting back towards the ship. “He wanted me as crew.”

There's a smirk on Udonta's face, but his eyes flash red before he says drily, “Ya'da spaced him within the week. Kid's a pain in the ass.”

“Screw you, I'm delightful.” Quill shoots one more look over his shoulder before giving a little wave and trotting up the ramp. 

Udonta hesitates for a few heartbeats, and Stakar tries to read the expression on his face but it shutters to quickly. He dips his head in a nod before stepping towards the _Warbird_.

And Stakar can't help his curiosity. “Who is he, Yondu?” Because he's not just some kid picked up in a bar, he's not even just crew.

He figures Udonta isn't going to answer. He gets all the way to the ramp before looking back and saying over his shoulder, “He's clan, Stakar. None o' the rest matters.” Then he's stomping up the ramp yelling for Quill to get out of his chair and the ramp closes on Quill's answer. 

The air stirs as the _Warbird_ lifts off and seconds later Stakar's got Martinex in his personal space, fingers working expertly on the thing around his neck. And the guy's always had an impressive glare when he wants to and when it's two inches from his face it's particularly effective. 

“Marty, I...”

And Martinex just sighs and nods, “Yeah, Captain, I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit irksome but I'm mostly happy with how it turned out. Hope y'all liked it :) thanks for all the kudos and comments :)


End file.
